The Whispering Shadows
On a cold November night, Emma moved into her late grandmother's house, an old Victorian mansion on the outskirts of town. The house was a family heirloom, standing for over a century, with creaking floors and walls that seemed to breathe. Emma found comfort in the nostalgia, but something felt... off.
The first night was uneventful, though the wind howled around the house, rattling the windows. Emma dismissed it, unpacked her belongings, and settled into the master bedroom. As she drifted off to sleep, she heard faint whispers. At first, she thought it was the wind. But then, a distinct voice emerged—a soft, raspy whisper calling her name.
"Emma… Emma… come find me..."
She sat up, heart pounding. The room was dark, save for the pale moonlight filtering through the curtains. She brushed it off as a dream and forced herself back to sleep.
The next day, Emma explored the house. In the attic, she found an old, dusty mirror covered by a white cloth. When she pulled the cloth away, she noticed something odd—the reflection seemed delayed, like a lagging shadow. She stepped closer, and for a fleeting second, she saw someone standing behind her. She spun around. No one was there.
That night, the whispers returned, louder this time.
"Emma… help me…"
She followed the sound, descending into the basement, where the air was thick and damp. A faint light glowed from behind a crumbling brick wall. Emma hesitated but curiosity pushed her forward. She noticed a loose brick and, with trembling hands, pried it loose, revealing a hidden chamber.
Inside, a skeleton lay slumped against the wall, its bony fingers wrapped around an old diary. Emma’s breath hitched. She grabbed the diary and flipped it open. The final entry read:
"They locked me away. I tried to warn them, but they wouldn't listen. Now, I wait for someone to set me free."
The whisper echoed louder, now right behind her.
"Thank you, Emma..."
She turned, but it was too late. The door slammed shut, trapping her inside. The last thing she saw was her reflection in the mirror on the wall—her own eyes staring back, but with a sinister smile she did not recognize.
The townspeople say the house remains empty, but at night, whispers can still be heard. Some claim it's Emma, calling for help. Others believe it's something far worse.